Conspiracies and Lust
by baby bean
Summary: Lily is saved when James, with his own reasons, offers her a temporary marriage. The one condition: a son must be borne. 18 and up for sexual situations.


**Title: Conspiracies and Lust**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me—at all. **

**WARNING: This story is comprised of mature subjects and situations, which basically means, crude language and sexual situations. **

**Rating: R**

**Chapter 1: Of Mindfucking Stipulations**

**Date Begun: September 7, 2004**

**Date Ended: September 11, 2004**

**Date Posted: September 11, 2004**

**--**

Privet Drive suited Vernon and Petunia Dursley well—very well in fact. The neighborhood was cool, reserved and stuffy, in Lily's opinion. The whole of London was seeped in climates of frigidity but that had nothing to do with Privet Drive's chilly atmosphere.

The houses were similar in appearance and size, the lawns perfectly trimmed and identical, the fences immaculately painted and cars shined. Even the sidewalk was untouched, she noticed, as she stared at the ground with her hands in her pockets, attempting to warm them.

A cool breeze blew through her thin jacket and she shivered, bringing the jacket closer around her for warmth.

Petunia had not contacted Lily or her mother at all since she married Vernon Dursley. Lily and her mother both secretly disapproved of the match, hardly loving the loud, arrogant man. It wasn't even evident if Petunia herself loved him. But if Petunia was unhappy Vernon Dursley, she would be far less happy living with Lily and her mother. The prospect of dying a spinster horrified her as she held herself in the highest regards so she scrambled at the chance to marry the first man who presented himself.

Things had not always been so bad, Lily thought wistfully, as another draft chilled her to the bone. In her memories their house, the one with the cracking paint, untended garden, little food and no heating didn't exist. Their house had been grand and magnificent, with gardens filled with exotic flowers and vegetables, whitewashed fences, clear windows and beautiful skies above.

But the beautiful simplicity of life seemed to die along with her father, in Lily's 7th Year of Hogwarts, a magical school she had attended. It had shocked her, the realization that nothing was ever simple—oh no, she knew better now... Her family had been shaken as well, unaccustomed to the absence of their male protector, and a father, a husband. He had left a deep emptiness in all of them.

Petunia grew distant and began to see Vernon, unconsciously clinging to the first father figure that presented himself. It became blindingly clear that Petunia deserved more than the loud, stubborn man who deigned to visit their house to eat dinner and voice his controversial opinions. Comparing him to the man whose image was still clearly imprinted in each of their minds, Lily's, Petunia's, and their mother's, he was nothing like the soft-spoken, caring and honest man Jimmy Evans had been.

They not only suffered emotionally, but in a much more tangible sense—financially. Jimmy Evans departed, leaving them with little to no money. They had always had enough to keep them going, but money ran out so quickly their heads spun. Lily began work immediately at a bookshop in Diagon Alley but it was for little pay. Their mother had never worked in her life, always opting to stay home and do the housecleaning.

They would have managed with money to spare if Petunia had assisted them, but there was one thing that horrified her more than the idea of dying a spinster, and that was dying a spinster in her mother's old, poverty-shaken house. Vernon Dursley wasn't the most polite man she knew, or the most attractive one, but he had the beginnings of a successful drill company and a respectable house, which was what Petunia needed most at this point in life.

Lily remained with her mother, a year after Hogwarts, and life was nothing like she had ever expected. But she stayed light-hearted, as did her mother. They learned that glamour was only in movies, not in real life. Especially when they reviewed the bills together that, only to realize that they had only a quarter of the amount required did they panic.

With Petunia gone their situation seemed even less hopeful. Her sister's lack of communication didn't surprise Lily. Now that she was settled comfortably with her new husband she didn't give a second thought to her mother and sister or the financial pit she had only recently been stuck in as well.

She's so selfish, Lily thought angrily.

Now Lily walked to her sister's house, their address scribbled on a piece of parchment in her pocket. They would not expect her or be pleased to see her. But this was no time for pleasantries. If she could not get any money soon, somehow, she and her mother would be turned into the streets, a position they had _never_ been in, no matter how bad it was.

Lily took out the parchment with her sister's address scrawled on it.

4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. 

It was the house directly in front of her. For a moment she stood and appraised it with a critical eye. Like all the other houses in the neighborhood, the lawn was immaculate and the house was painted white. A new red car stood in the garage. The porch was painfully bare. There was no welcome mat.

But the house looked warm and clean and the bills were probably paid promptly inside. Lily longed for the same security Petunia had obtained. She shook her head. But she would never, never marry a man she didn't love or respect for it. She would sooner raise the money on her own.

Lily hesitated before walking up the walkway, gazing at the bare yet perfect lawn... the undecorated porch... if she ever got all this, _when _she got it, she would never leave it so sparse. She would plant a garden with the most beautiful flowers and raise her own vegetables. She would put pretty little details on her porch and place an enormous welcome mat and be the perfect mistress, benevolent, lovely and kind.

She sighed. She would have to wheedle money out of Petunia and pay the month's bills first.

She knocked on the door. Two knocks then stopped, respectfully. She rearranged her scarf and waited, blowing on her fingers. She knew she looked frightful. Her hair was windblown and out of place, her scarf mismatched with her gloves, and her jacket had patches sewn on. This was how Lily lived now. Money was now an issue she faced every day, unlike her carefree days at Hogwarts, never having to worry about her next meal or about her family.

She knocked again. The house was deadly quiet. No footsteps to greet her, no shouting within the house as they realized she had visited. Maybe they were gone, Lily thought, a panic slowly setting over her. Where would she get the money now? Where would she and her mother go? Time was running out. How would she and her mother bear leaving their home, most likely leaving most of their things as well...

Lily was about to leave, her hands settled deeply into her pockets. But she saw the lightest fluttering of the ivory curtains at the left window.

Lily knew her sister well. And it was plain knowledge that Petunia had perfected the art of shifting through the curtains to spy on the next-door neighbors to a T. There had been many a morning Lily scoffed at her sister's backside and laughed at her natural curiosity in all things outside of her business. Petunia had always waved a careless hand at her.

Why, it's exactly the same thing, Lily thought. Except that _I'm_ being spied on and Vernon is probably behind her. She doesn't want to see us anymore, now that she has a husband and a house. Lily's heart soared with anger and bitterness. It had always been her sister's _apathy_ that hurt Lily most. Now, after her father's death, Petunia even disrespected him by deserting the remainders of the family.

Holding her head high, Lily rapped her fist on the door until she thought her hand would crack.

The fluttering in the curtain ceased and the house remained silent.

Lily bowed her head to the door, the thought of her mother looking through their bills over and over again, knowing there was no mistake but having nothing else to do with the situation stifling her anger and replacing it with—bitterness.

"I know you're there, Petunia." She murmured softly. "Despite all this, I know you still care for us. I know dad's death hurts you too. Why can't you just admit everything for once?"

Lily laid her hand flat on the door and rested her forehead on the cold wood. "Well good luck then." She turned around to leave.

The door opened suddenly with Petunia behind it. "Wait." She said.

Surprise mixed with relief flooded Lily.

"I—I almost missed you." Petunia lied sourly. "Sorry, I was all the way in my room, Vernon was too, we didn't know you were here."

"Oh." Lily said, choosing not to mention the lie. "Right."

"Come on in." Petunia said. Vernon was behind her. He grunted his agreement.

"Thanks." Lily murmured, welcoming the heat as she stepped into the house. She observed the carpeting, the clean appearance of the house, the basic furniture.

"I've never been in here before have I? You have a nice house." She commented lightly.

"Yes, I've done quite—quite well, haven't I?" Petunia replied with more than a hint of smugness.

"Yes... you have." Lily said, looking at Vernon and Petunia, the space between them and the lack of affection or familiarity between them. She shuddered to think of them in the bedroom and shook the thought away.

"Petunia is extremely happy here. She has everything she wants and a loving husband." Vernon said boisterously, his mustache twitching.

"She's very blessed, Vernon." Lily said, then turned an accusatory gaze at Petunia, "I only wish she'd share some of her happiness and visit us more often. Mother—"

"Mother can handle herself, Lily. She's a grown woman." Petunia said curtly.

"She's mother. She misses you." Lily cried, then took a breath. "You could have visited her at least once after you married, that's all."

"Well that part of my life is over." Petunia said with finality. She looked at her husband, "Vernon can you bring us some tea?"

He lazily ambled in the direction of the kitchen, recognizing a dismissal when he heard one.

Lily attempted a fresh start. "So how is everything?"

"Everything is fine, like Vernon said. I have everything I ever wanted here." Petunia said, as though she had practiced it fifty times a day.

"I'm sincerely glad to hear that." Lily said hollowly.

"I'm sure you are. Maybe you can get married one of these days and leave the house as well. You're an adult too now." Petunia advised.

"Getting married isn't something I'm planning on anytime soon. And you know I can't leave Mother." Lily said truthfully.

"Oh." Said Petunia flatly. "Is that what you think I did? _Leave_ Mother? And of course you're now playing the role of the faithful daughter. How long will you stay, Lily? Until you _die_?"

Lily paused in shock, then anger. "So what should I do?" she aimed at Petunia. "Get married and never contact her again?"

She was getting angry. She wouldn't get the money this way. Lily attempted to backtrack and talk softly. "Why don't you even return our calls? You know how hard the situation is and yet you don't seem to care now that you're comfortably settled. You _know_ we barely have money to pay the bills. Don't you care anymore?"

"Make mother get a job." Petunia said shortly.

"Petunia! I can't believe—"

"Lily, why did you come here?" Her sister cut her off, wanting to get to the point.

Lily sighed in resignation. Apparently a preamble wasn't an option. Not that it would have helped. "We don't have enough money for the bills this month. We barely have one fourth of the amount due." She gazed at Petunia, attempting to spark the slightest sense of compassion in her older sibling. "The least you can do is help us through this."

"What money do you think I have?" Petunia asked.

"Well—you seem pretty well off now." Lily waved a hand at the room.

"Appearances are misleading. Vernon needs all the extra money we have to implement his drill company." Petunia said.

Lily had the distinct impression that Petunia simply wasn't willing to spare them any money.

"You can't give your mother and sister, the ones who sheltered you before you married Vernon, because he wants to use all his money on that blasted _company_?" Lily barraged at her.

"You don't understand half of the business." Petunia replied loftily as though in the short time she had been married to Vernon, she had transformed into a business guru.

"No. But I understand family values. And _caring_."

Petunia was shocked. "I'm sorry but you're going to have to beg off someone else this month." She said vehemently.

"Oh, is that what it is now? What about when you were living with us, living off my profits most of the time? What about then? Has that been forgotten so quickly?" Lily asked quietly.

"It's every woman for herself." Petunia said.

"That's not what you said when you lived with us." Lily said, "I don't understand, Petunia. Aren't we sisters still?"

"Yes, we are. And as a sister, let me give you a piece of advice. Get married. Soon."

Lily felt anger welling up inside of her, blocking her air passages, not letting her breathe or see the world without red splotches. How patronizing, how _stupid_ of Petunia and uncaring.

"I'm not willing to marry the first slob I see and live out the rest of my bloody life in misery. No thank you." Lily remained coolly calm. "I wish you happiness, Petunia. Let's see who is the happier one in the end."

She startled Vernon who was returning with cups of tea and gave him a look of disgust before she walked out of their door. She shivered as the first gust hit her.

"You don't understand half the business..." Petunia whispered to herself at her window, watching her sister walk away angrily, unable to stop the lifelong habit.

--

Rose Evans sat at her old mahogany table, tracing circles on the surface as she read the Daily Prophet. She had become enraptured by this new world as soon as her second born, Lily, bless her heart, was accepted to Hogwarts, a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rose had been an imaginative child, delighting in reading fictions of worlds that she had never really believed in, until Lily had went to Hogwarts. The child that had never died in Rose sprang up and she sent Lily to all seven years of Hogwarts, while savoring all the tidbits Lily sent back to her.

Now she had fallen into the habit of reading the Daily Prophet, sent—well, daily, to their house. A friend of Lily's paid for it, a Remus Lupin, since Lily would never spend any money on anything but necessities these days.

The thought of money and necessities dampened Rose's mood and an unbearably clear image of Jimmy Evans, her late husband, a man with such energy and stamina and enthusiasm, appeared in her head. Since he had departed, things hadn't been the same. Petunia had married and although Rose was happy for her firstborn, she dearly wished Petunia had chosen _anybody_ but that Vernon character.

And the thought of Lily sent out to work from morning to night, barely making ends meet. Rose hated being so dependent on Lily because she felt as though Lily was missing the best years of her life. But somewhere in the depths of her mind, she knew that if it weren't for Lily, she wouldn't be anywhere as well off. Thank God for Lily...

Oh God, she missed Jimmy. She missed his handsome, unshaven face in the mornings. His warm caresses that never ceased as other husbands' did as they aged. His insatiable humor, responsibility of life, the way he looked at her...

She saw the same things in Lily that she had valued in Jimmy. Everyday Lily was becoming more and more like her father, although she didn't realize it. She had always had the same easygoing humor and lovingness, but now she bore the responsibility of everyday life just as strongly as Jimmy had. Rose was proud and she only wished that Lily would someday have an opportunity to find someone as fitting as Jimmy had been for her. Lily deserved it.

The front door rattled and creaked open. Rose saw her daughter, looking more beautiful in her well-worn clothes than most women would ever look in anything, enter the house, stripping off her outer layers. Lily shot her a bright smile from across the house.

Rose hurried over and felt her fingers. "They're so cold!" she exclaimed in a purely motherly fashion, warming Lily's hands in her own. "We simply must get you some gloves."

Lily made a face. "Let's save the money. Winter will end soon."

Rose felt a strong distaste in her stomach. She never got used to their lack of money. She hated seeing Lily living without little niceties and pretty things, like other women her age. Even without those, she seldom didn't attract men, Rose slyly knew. But Lily didn't even have _time_ to date them, notice her or not.

But Rose would prefer that Lily went without dating for the time being, rather than her going off and marrying the first man she saw. She thanked the heavens Lily had more sense than to marry a Vernon. She knew Lily still harbored a knight in shining armor fantasy, most common in girls of age seven or eight.

"How is Petunia?" Rose asked and added quickly, "Vernon too. Are they doing well?"

"Well, she's as much of a bloody bitch as she ever was." Lily said matter-of-factly. "And Vernon is as good as he'll ever get in life."

"Lilian Rose Evans!" Rose exclaimed, taken aback.

"Mother, she flat out refused us." Lily interjected. "I can't believe the nerve that we call Petunia Evans. Excuse me, Petunia Dursley. Which by the way is the worst last name you can never be blessed with."

"Lily..." Rose admonished, "Be open-minded dear. We know your sister is a bit—different. We have to understand that and get through this together. Without profanity."

"Yes, mother." Lily said quickly, not very remorseful.

Rose laughed.

She put an arm around Lily, "I admit though, Petunia _can_ be—what did you say? A bloody bitch?"

"Mother!"

"Shush, dear."

They went to the kitchen table.

"How are we going to pay the bills now?" Lily asked.

"Well—" Rose said, at a loss, tracing circles on the mahogany again. "I don't know dear."

"I got my last paycheck yesterday. It isn't quite enough, but—"

"We'll get through this, Lily. We will somehow. There's a couple days left." Rose said, her own words not reassuring her at all.

"Bullshit, mother."

"Lily! Stop that cursing." Rose said, acknowledging to herself that "Bullshit" was right. "It isn't attractive."

"Sorry." Lily said again.

A silence fell upon them.

"Why don't we forget about it for now?" Rose suggested. "A solution will come up eventually. I know it will."

Lily sighed, recognizing her mother's escapism instincts. She had been dependent on her husband for too long to work out all of her own problems. But she acquiesced, because she didn't want to think of the situation anymore than her mother did. Their attention fell peacefully on the Daily Prophet, their daily comfort.

"GOBLIN PROTEST CONTINUES! REINFORCMENTS ARRIVE."

A picture depicted a huge crowd of gruesome goblins marching in front of Gringotts, which looked dark and shut down, their fingers waving in their air. Aurors worked hard to keep them under control. Lily saw Sirius, a friend from Hogwarts, working in the far corner. She smiled. He looked happier than ever.

Her mother was always interested in all things magical. Lily remembered coming home after her first trip to the Diagon Alley and having her mother enthusiastically peruse her books with her and fawn over the moving pictures. Her mother was the same as ever.

Lily read the Goblin article with little interest as she had seen similar articles many times before. She looked further.

"How fascinating..." Rose Evans murmured, tracing her finger down the newspaper.

"MUGGLE ATTACK. KNIGHTS OF WALPURGIS, OR 'DEATH EATERS' SUSPICIONED."

A sickening picture of a family, their house burned down behind them, and the father on the ground, twitching and bloodied, faced Lily. She averted her eyes and heard her mother "tut-tut-tut", not realizing the implications. These people were very similar to them. Lily didn't read the article.

The next picture sent her heart jumping into the back of her throat. Her breath suspended and she clutched at the table.

It was a black and white picture. Of James Potter.

God, he was still as handsome as ever. Lily was fascinated by the changes brought on after graduation and their separation. James still had the boyish gleam in his eye, and handsome, youthful features. But he was dressed as a man who had never pranked a being in his life, in rich, lavish, well-tailored robes, and his expression was formal, his shoulders pulled back confidently.

He seemed to pause to look straight at her and his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, as always. His demeanor was much more polished than a mere year ago. A year had changed them all, maybe irreparably. Lily dearly longed for the old days.

The article said, "HAROLD POTTER DECEASED. YOUNG JAMES POTTER TAKES OVER FAMILY MULTIMILLION GALLEON BUSINESS."

"Lily, don't you know this young man?" Her mother asked her, studying James intently. In the picture James bowed gallantly to her mother and sent a mischievous wink to Lily.

"Yes, yes, I do—or did rather..." Lily said. "But not anymore."

He might as well be dead to her for all the accessibility he offered to her. They were no longer of similar class and Lily doubted that James would bother taking time off to see her often. He had a booming business now and he was one of the most eligible bachelors, as opposed to Lily, still living at home, not having much of a life or many friends.

And the bills... She had forgotten about those...

--

People bustled around James and he bowed his head in exhaustion and disgust. He never _wanted_ his father's business. This was never what he wanted to be, a polished businessman, his father's spitting image. Damn it.

He was exhausted. As soon as his father had died his life had lost its simplicity. He was expected to be at the head of the business, make all the decisions, and keep up the Potter legacy. He didn't know a damn thing about the business to say the truth.

He knew that they sold the newest models of broomsticks in the world. But he didn't want to _sell_ broomsticks. He wanted to ride them.

James sighed and tried to block out the sounds. He sat in his office now, and his consultant or secretary popped their heads in every five minutes. There was just no peace, no stopping the motion of the office.

His consultant, Steven Orbins who was at least forty years older than him, came into the room. "Mr. Potter, the media are in a frenzy and demanding for a press conference. Elbert Hopkins just landed in St. Mungo's with an irreparable injury to his knee. He tested out the third attempt of the Lightstick 1960. This was the third failure."

James groaned and put his head in his hands. He didn't know shit about this. He was ready to bet that the lowest janitor in the building would have more knowledge than he did. What the hell, he thought. If these people put him in charge, they were fools and the company's demise would be their own doing. He wouldn't stress over his answers too much.

"No media, no press, no conference." James said firmly, the only answer he was sure of. "The company will pay for all of Elbert Hopkin's medical bills, ask Melinda to send sympathy letters to all of his relatives, fire the engineering Lightstick committee, hold job interviews for engineers that will take their place."

Steve Orbins' jaw dropped at James' answer. This was not how Harold Potter's son was expected to operate things. He opened his mouth and spoke tactfully, "Mr. Potter, pardon my gusto, but the process of firing the _entire_ committee and hiring a new one will delay the Lightstick debut weeks if done properly. These engineers are the best in the country-- the world, even. We can't simply throw them out."

James frowned at Orbins' patronizing. He should have expected it. After all, Orbins had been present at James birth and most of his birthdays.

"If the engineers screwed it up three times, they're obviously not qualified." James said.

"May I suggest moving them to a different committee?" Orbins grasped, knowing the value of the brilliant engineers.

"Where would you suggest?" James asked.

"The Firebroom project?" Steve Orbins said. Moving them to a less important project was far wiser than firing them altogether.

"Fine, fine." James said dismissively, finding himself not caring.

Steve Orbins exited the room, shaking his head. That young Potter...

"MELINDA!" James yelled.

His secretary, a buxom, mothering woman, scurried in. "Yes, Mr. Potter?" she asked warmly.

"Sympathy letters to all of Elbert Hopkins' relatives." James said, "And make sure to put in plenty of the words, 'unfortunately' and 'tragedy'."

"Nice words indeed, Mr. Potter." Melinda Lozano said, feeling fond of the young man.

"I'm extremely appreciative of your work." James said, nearly sincere for once. He gave a small, abrupt smile at his secretary.

Melinda smiled inwardly. "I'm sure your father would have been proud."

James frowned at that.

"Can I ask you something?" Melinda queried.

"Sure." James shrugged.

Melinda switched footing in the doorway and pushed a gray lock back. "Do you _like_ work? Do you feel comfortable here?"

James thought for a long time. He was startled out of his nonchalance.

"I like work." he said finally, "It fascinates me. I sit and look at it for hours."

Melinda stood quietly for a second. She let out a chuckle, which erupted into full-blown laughter, which was uncharacteristic of her at work. "Oh God," she was laughing, "All right Mr. Potter, all right... my goodness!" She exited the room.

In a moment, she poked her head in again, "Oh yes, the late Mr. Potter, your grandfather, asked for a visit this afternoon."

James groaned.

--

Lily surveyed herself in the reflecting store window as she walked, then laughed as she caught herself.

_A schoolgirl is what I am_.

Could she be nervous? Yes, she was. Lily Evans was nervous, in a purely adolescent manner.

It was the first time in a long while she had seen any of her Hogwarts friends. An entire year had passed since their graduation. It had been a hard year. Lily had had to see her father die, weak and debilitated in his hospital bed, and she had had to deal with the changes afterwards. Sometimes Lily thought that it wasn't the moment her father died that hurt the most, but the absence after he did.

After her father's death, she had spiraled into times of hardness along with her mother and Petunia. She had no _time_ to socialize and meet up with friends of the past, because that was what they were now. Friends of the past.

Lily supposed that it was part self-consciousness that prevented her from contacting all her friends. She had been invincible in Hogwarts, always believing inside that she would rise to the top as soon as she graduated, into her fantasy of herself, a brilliant auror or a professor or—anything but a single woman working in a bookstore to pay the bills. People had expected her, the most brilliant student in their year, to be successful. To meet them and see the sad, sympathizing look in their eyes as they tutted inwardly and thought what a tragedy she was... She wouldn't stand for it.

She wondered often what became of all her friends. Some she saw often, in the Daily Prophet or in the magazines she read sometimes. James Potter, Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy, they were all affecting society already, straight out of school. Those were exactly the people she didn't want to run into. Their reactions would be dissimilar, but would hurt all the same. Lucius Malfoy would be cruel and triumphant, Sirius would be gruff and uncomfortable, and James would pity her.

Lily Evans was not a charity case.

The only person she thought would understand was Remus Lupin. He had been particularly persistent after graduation. Only his letters continued after a couple months of no response. He had wanted to see her, to know what was going on, to help her.

Now, after a year, Lily figured if anyone would understand, it was Remus. After all, Remus had lived his bloody life being pitied and misunderstood. He wouldn't be lofty; he wouldn't be condescending, because he had already touched the bottom, unlike the likes of James Potter or Sirius Black.

Despite her nerves, Lily was actually excited about this. Unused to meetings of a social nature after a year, she had reverted back to the schoolgirl she was years ago. She had no misconceptions of romance between herself and Remus, although there _had_ been something between them in their 5th Year. Now they were adults and this was a strictly platonic meeting. But she was thinking ahead of herself.

Lily stopped at a small, walled courtyard. She found a trash can and counted three bricks above and two across. Taking precautions, she looked around. It wouldn't do to be seen by a Muggle. Satisfied, she took out her wand and tapped three times.

The bricks rearranged themselves and she entered the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hello Tom," she greeted the balding old man behind the counter.

"Why hello, Lily!" he chortled.

But her attention was already elsewhere, scanning the room for a boy with light brown hair, a slight build and a large grin. The room was nearly empty, with only a few people scattered at tables, sipping drinks. Finally she sighted the back of a man with darker hair than Remus. To make sure, she inched her way toward the person.

She heard her name called out behind her halfway there. "Lily."

It was a level, calm and kind tone. She could recognize it anywhere. She spun around and faced a taller man than she remembered with small, crinkly wrinkles, lighter hair streaked with blonde, and a more contained demeanor. He seemed a hundred years older.

"Remus," she breathed, out of pure happiness. She walked into his arms and gave him an embrace.

"You're the same as always." Remus said warmly.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" Lily asked, unable to stop smiling at him. Oh Remus, her dear, kind-hearted, brilliant friend.

"Too long." He simply said. "Let's sit and talk. I'll order drinks."

Lily was slightly relieved when he didn't pull out a chair for her. Good. This was no romantic reunion. They sat and Remus said to Tom, "Two Butterbeers."

"Butterbeer?" Lily teased, "Aren't we a bit old for it?"

"Never. Butterbeer's a classic." Remus smiled. "And you'll never grow old, Lily. You're too young at heart."

Lily settled into the comfortable silence until Tom brought them two drinks. They sipped pleasantly.

"So how have you been?" Lily asked curiously. "Do you see anyone from Hogwarts these days? James, Sirius, Bella?"

Remus gave a weary sigh. "Things aren't what I expected, Lily."

Lily fell into a lapse of silence. "I know what you mean." She said finally.

"I've never felt this prejudice in Hogwarts." Remus said. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Lily nodded. Remus was a werewolf. She had known for a long time, as well as James, Sirius and Peter.

"It's extremely hard for me to find jobs. And it's a hard enough time as it is, with all these rebellions, even the goblins, and the Knights of Walpurgis or the Death Eaters, and the overall confusion. Nobody's going to take time off and take notice of me and give me help. It's everyone for themselves."

The familiar statement jolted Lily. Everyone for themselves. Hadn't someone else said something similar?

"Then what do you do?" Lily asked gently. Today she would listen to Remus. How selfish she had been, expecting a day's worth of pouring out for herself. Of course Remus would have more trouble, and always would.

"Sirius managed to find a job for me in the Ministry." Remus said wryly. "I'm happy for the chap. He's loving every bit of the confusion. That was always his specialty."

"I saw a picture of him in the Daily Prophet. And he did look well." Lily said, remembering Sirius' utter concentration and involvement in his work.

"And James..." Remus started and Lily realized where he was planning to go with the topic.

"I'm happy for him as well." Lily said, "But I doubt he'll be inviting me to luncheons or evening balls any time soon."

"I think you should contact him." Remus said.

"Remus—I really don't think so." Lily said.

"Why not?"

"It wouldn't be the right time for me to be barging into his life what with his new multimillion galleon company and burgeoning social life."

"James doesn't seem happy." Remus said.

"Well, I don't think I'm what he needs to change that-- anymore." Lily said.

Silence.

"He loved you, you know." Remus said softly.

Lily choked on her drink. "Pardon?"

"He never had the time to tell you, but he did love you. In 7th Year you were all he thought about." Remus said.

Lily took a long time to mull this over.

"Don't answer. It's your own business." Said Remus. Then he sipped his drink and asked, "And how are you?"

"Can I be honest?" Lily asked.

Remus chuckled. "Please."

"Fucking horrible."

It was his turn to choke. "Oh."

"Money is always harrowing me. I don't know how I'm going to pay for the next bill, the next meal, the next necessity..." Lily said. "And mother is always so dependent on me. I would hate to be the one to tell her, 'Mother, I'm sorry but we'll have to move into the streets tomorrow.' Or 'We simply don't have money for anything, Mother.'"

Just as Lily hoped, Remus didn't look overly sympathetic or pitying at all. He simply looked contemplative. "Do you have a job?"

"Yes. I work at the bookstore in Diagon Alley."

"That's not nearly as much pay as you need to support yourself _and_ your mother." Remus said.

"I know." Lily said, "But like you said, a job is hard to find these days."

"Why? You're able and you're talented. It should be easy for you." Remus said. "Why don't you contact James?"

"James—" Lily trailed off. Talking to James again, seeing James again, falling over James again. James, James, James, his brown eyes, warmer than Remus', sweeter than Sirius', his sense of humor sharper than Dumbledore's, his passion for everything... She shook her head to clear her mind.

"Lily, promise me." Remus said seriously. "He can help you a great deal."

"Okay. Well—maybe." She said, still dazed over the thought of James.

"Since we got over that," Remus said with a devilish smile, "Let's get down to the important things. Love life?"

Lily laughed and prepared herself for an entertaining evening.

--

James sighed wearily and checked his expensive watch.

Visiting a man who was old, most likely senile, and nearly bald was not one of his favorite things to do. Waiting in the lobby of St. Mungo's in order to visit this man was even higher on his list of least favorite activities.

Damn nurses.

"You can see him now, Mr. Potter." The most attractive of the nurses told him.

With a dismissive, "Thank you", James set off for room 2145.

2140, 2142, 2143, 2144, 2145...

James' shoes clicked on the polished marble as he strode purposefully. With another bored glance at the ceiling, James opened the door coolly. He would talk to the old man, who probably wanted one last chat with his grandson before he croaked, and leave for a pub somewhere. Did Sirius say he was busy today?

"Hello grandfather." James said in a tone he attempted to make enthusiastic but failed miserably.

"Get out." A bull-headed looking old man croaked in a strained voice, "Get the fuck out. And don't come in until you knock and I bloody invite you to enter." His voice rose until he was yelling vehemently, yet weakly.

One of James' eyebrows rose.

"Are you deaf, damn boy? Or half-witted? Well you're Harold's son, I guess the answer is obvious. I'll say it one more time. Get your ass out." The old man shook a fist.

"Okay, pops." James muttered. He better obey before the man had a seizure right in front of him. Gruesome sights, those were. He opened the door and stepped out, closing it with a distinctive click.

"Damn Harold's boy... Just as half-witted as ever."

What did St. Mungo's feed this nutter?

James decided to comply with the old man. He knocked twice.

"Come in!" his grandfather, James was starting to have a hard time believing, yelled.

He went in.

"Thank you for visiting me." Arnold Potter said. "Have a seat."

What a loon, James thought, as he sat down.

"Now let's keep this short, because I can't afford to risk my hypertension any further with quarrelsome little boys." The old man said, and James could have sworn that he saw a gleam in his eye.

"I was thinking along the same lines." James drawled.

"Quiet boy." His grandfather snapped, then quelled. "I see you in the newspapers. Are you satisfied with your position as of late?"

James suddenly felt a familiar surge that had empowered him all through his Hogwarts years: rebellion, against all forms of authority. "I hate the company. I hate working there."

Arnold raised a white eyebrow, wrinkling his pale, splotchy skin. James recoiled. "What's this? You hate the company?"

"I hate the company. It's a crock of shit that the magical world could do without." James said defiantly.

Arnold looked skeptical. "I heard you enjoy Quidditch?"

James hesitated.

"Do you have trouble making up your mind? Well, yes or no?" His grandfather snapped.

"I like Quidditch. What of it?" James said.

"Where would Quidditch be, without my company?" Arnold Potter asked. "Let me ask you that."

"Quidditch would still be—"

"WRONG!" He bellowed. "Quidditch would be some underdeveloped, rural sport out in the country, with home-fashioned broomsticks. My father, as well as his father, and I changed the world. Now I wouldn't expect Harold or any of his spawn to understand the concept, but the world is a useless piece of shit. It's only when brilliance comes by, I'm referring to myself and the fathers before me, when the world changes into something better."

"You're an arrogant fool." James said steely. "And senile, as well."

Arnold Potter guffawed loudly, wheezing out of his frail throat. He took an abnormally lengthy amount of time to calm down. He shook his head, still laughing weakly. "No, James, you—you are the arrogant fool. But I like your spirit. I always have. And that is why I decided to spare you."

"Spare me?" James asked.

"Yes, James, spare you." His grandfather said, "Your father passed away before I could pull my last stunt. Your mother, I've always liked. Yes, Mary was a marvelous young woman, and I always thought of Harold as too much of a whiny, slobbering git to satisfy the likes of Mary. You inherit your spirit from your mother, remember that, James."

_Get to the point_, _you fool_.

"Your father was a dependent, weak creature. Now if I had a son like Mary, or even like you, things would have been different." Arnold said, "But your father didn't end up the way I wanted him. He was no man! Yes, I let him run the company, only for appearance's sake. But he was nowhere as shrewd as I was, or my father was. I saw the company weaken in his grasp."

"But what could I do? With so much money, I was expected to support him. Hell, the fool would have depended on me for his whole life if he hadn't died. My ideal son would have set off into the world on his own, to make his own living, even if it was a modest one. My ideal son would have had too much pride to accept my help."

"But I couldn't send Harold into the streets for Heaven's sakes. My image would have been ruined, forever. But then I thought, what does it matter, after death?"

"Get to the point." James said through gritted teeth.

Arnold hit James with a newspaper. "Listen closely you buffoon! This may be the most important part of your life, although you're too thick-headed to realize it."

"Fine. Continue." James said.

"So after that, I realized what my final blow would be."

"What?" James asked.

"My will." Arnold's eyes gleamed mischievously and for a moment, James felt that he could actually relate to this man, a 90-year-old man, still playing pranks.

"Your will?"

"Yes, my half-witted grandson. My will." Arnold said. "As you know, when there's a will... there's five hundred relatives."

James chuckled.

"Imagine the scenario." Arnold was saying, almost licking his lips imagining the delicious payback. "Nobody would see the will except for my lawyer until my funeral. All of my relatives, and some not even relatives, would gather, eager for a piece of the kill. Everyone would of course assume most of my estate and funds would go to Harold, but they would still come for the reading of the will."

"Everyone's settled down, quiet. They all act as though they're in mourning." Arnold said without any trace of bitterness. James felt interested, despite himself. "The will is read. And my entire fortune, the companies, the bank accounts, the funds, the investments, the estates, they all go to—"The man prolonged the last word, "charity!"

Arnold Potter doubled over in laughter. "Oh, wouldn't it have been a delicious prank!"

James shook his head in amusement. Old men..

"Oh come off it, I know you yourself enjoy a well executed prank." Arnold wheezed. But he sobered, "Now Harold is dead and the chance is lost, forever. I was considering doing it on you but it wouldn't be the same effect."

"So I'm considering entitling my entire fortune, to my only grandson, James Harold Potter." He said speculatively, "But don't get your hopes up. I have certain—conditions."

James had felt bored up until this point. He had never heard anyone question that the Potter fortune would go to him. "Conditions?"

"Yes. Stipulations, of a sort." Arnold said, the same glint coming into his eyes.

"And if I don't follow these conditions?" James asked.

"Then you're lost." Arnold shrugged. "You have no company, no money, no job, no family, and I doubt you have many friends."

James was seized by a sudden terror. He had never faced poverty before. It all seemed so unlikely. But this was the man who had been planning to ruin his own son. "You wouldn't."

"Oh I would." Arnold laughed, "And I'd enjoy watching it from down below."

James stared at the easygoing way Arnold spoke of death.

"Death is hereditary. It's a fool who fears of it." Arnold said simply. "Anyway, I know you _think_ you hate being rich and having a company. Ha! The irony of it. Believe me, James, you'll hate being poor and not having a company even more."

James fell into silence.

"You might want to hear these conditions." Arnold prodded.

"All right." James said finally.

"Good boy!" Arnold laughed, "I knew you would play along with me. Don't disappoint me, James. This might be my last game."

_And good riddance,_ James thought.

"The conditions are simple." Arnold said. "And you'll be bound into a magical contract with me if you agree."

"I agree." James said, and a glowing parchment appeared in the air.

"You will not receive a single galleon, unless you adhere to these terms." Arnold said, watching words appear on the parchment, "You will marry within three days. If the said amount of time passes without the fulfillment of the stipulations, the fortune will automatically go to charities around the world. Even if you do marry, you will not have the fortune until a son between you and your wife (no men, please) is borne."

James jaw dropped. "I—I'm nineteen!"

"Well good for you chap!" Arnold slapped his back. "I'm glad you're aware of it!"

"I'm too young to marry! I'm a bachelor! I'm supposed to stay a bachelor until—thirty at least!"

"Oh I'm sure there's some young lady out there you can find and bear to live with, all for the fortune." Arnold said, "And after the son is born, you can separate with her if you wish."

"This is mindfucking!" James exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. "You manipulative, evil, perverted old man! I won't have it!"

"Remember James! Three days..." Arnold called out after him. James strode out angrily and ignored the attractive nurse's cooed "Goodbye, Mr. Potter!".

"Total mindfuck." James muttered to himself, before the panic set in.

--


End file.
